Chasing Memories
by cinderalex
Summary: [paused, will be continued in December] A letter appears in the Quibbler six years after the War has ended describing a Harry Potter Sighting and Ginny, as well as others, must relive thier memories. Warning: No pairing promises.
1. Prologue: A Letter

Chasing Memories

by cinderalex

Prologue: A Letter to the Editor

Disclaimer: Anything or anyone you recognize does not belong to me.

The following letters appeared in the July edition of the _Quibbler_ the year Harry Potter would have turned twenty-four had he not died the day of the final battle between himself and Voldemort.

To Whom It May Concern:

I admire this magazine very much, as I find the news it reports much more accurate than that of other wizarding papers available. Though I do not live in the UK, where most of the news originates, I still subscribe. Because of this long-term affinity, I am about to give you an exclusive bit of news, the significance of which, I think your readers alone will appreciate.

Last month, on a trip into New York City, I happened upon a small, and, if you must know, rundown restaurant. The place was emptying as it was near closing time, and I chose to sit at the bar. This position just happened to give me a good view of the cook who made my onion and cucumber omelette. This cook, whom the waitress addressed as 'Harry,' was well-built, though perhaps on the leaner side, with messy, black hair. When he turned, I couldn't help but notice his bottle green eyes or the lightening bolt scar slashing across his forehead.

In short, Harry Potter (defeater of He-Who-_Still_-Must-Not-Be-Named) is alive, and working as an omelette flipper in New York City.

Affably yours,

Alex

P.S. I believe Mr. Harry Potter is involved in a scheme to destroy Time Square in a dungbomb attack. My sources may not be reliable, but I believe the dungbombs will be supplied by Weasley Wizard Wheezes. This would explain Harry's (very poor) attempts to conceal his identity.

* * *

Dear Alexandra,

To my knowledge, Harry Potter has always had a certain distaste for Time Square and a certain affection for dungbombs, so naturally, your story makes sense. I am eager to hear confirmation from other readers and will perhaps be investigating myself!

Happy Harry-hunting,

Luna

Author's Note: Inspiration hit me and I decided to add this prologue and change the summary. It was a spur of the moment decision and I am not certain it was the right one. Oh well. Don't worry though, the story is the same and more updates are on their way! Also, my sister has (just now, this very minute) suggested I insert letter chapters (like other letters to the _Quibbler _about Harry Potter sightings), thoughts?


	2. Chocolate

Chasing Memories

by cinderalex

Chapter One: Chocolate

Disclaimer: Anything or anyone you recognize isn't mine.

The sun hung low in the sky as Hermione shoved her treacle tart down hungrily. She couldn't seem to eat enough these days, but she supposed that was normal, or at least Mrs. Weasley told her it was. And Mrs. Weasley would know after bearing seven children. As she looked down the long dinner table set in the garden of the Burrow, she counted five of those children. Earlier, she had been so busy eating she hadn't noticed the missing children. Well, she knew Charlie was in Romania meeting his newest girlfriend's parents and...

"Merlin, Hermione, leave some dessert for the rest of us," her husband said grumpily, taking the last bit of the tart from her plate and stuffing it into his mouth. His appetite seemed to have grown in proportion to hers even though _he_ was not eating for two. Normally she would have reacted violently to his stealing from her plate, but, at the moment, she was distracted.

"Molly, where's Ginny?"

Mrs. Weasley dropped her fork, and paused, considering Hermione. "She had a migraine."

Hermione snorted, "Ginny hasn't had a migraine since the time the shelf fell on her head in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

"For the record, that was George's fault," Fred piped in. "And about Ginny's absence... Ron told us you were smart."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on," George chastised. "Think about it. What day is it?"

"Sunday? But what does that have to do with– oh dear." It was Sunday, July 31st, Harry's birthday. Harry's deathday. Hermione paused, then said, "Three years ago that might have meant something, but I thought– "

"Yeah, well, so did we." Bill was scowling as he called down from the other end of the table. The entire Weasley family was now listening to thier conversation. "But last week Ginny just happened to pick up a copy of the _Quibbler_."

Hermione shook her head, indicating she that did understand the significance of Bill's words.

"It had a small story, not more than a page, about a recent 'Harry Potter Sighting.' She got really upset. Maybe she had convinced herself to forget him and this reminded her. Or maybe she's got her hopes up that it's true, even though she knows it can't be." George added, completing the story.

"Oh dear." Hermione frowned, clearly thinking. "I have to go. Molly, dinner was wonderful. Ron, I may not be home until tomorrow." And, with a short nod, she disapparated.

BREAK

Ginny inclined the Firebolt, rising higher in the sky. Sunset was the best time to fly. The bright backdrop of reds and oranges, pinks and golds, heightened the rushing sensation. She closed her eyes and, for a fraction of second, she could believe Harry was flying beside her.

"_Harry! That's not fair!" Ginny called, racing forward on her broom. "Your Firebolt is way faster than my Cleansweep!" Evening practice had finished twenty minutes ago, but she had stayed behind for some 'extra help' from her captain._

_Harry's laughter drifted back to her. "If you were a **really** good chaser you'd be able to catch me anyway, now wouldn't you." _

_She wanted to point out to him that the words 'chaser' and 'catcher' were not synonymous, but thought that would indicate her surrender. She considered him for a moment, then smiled._

"_HARRY! I think I see– Is that?" she dove down toward the pitch. _

"_What is it, Ginny?" Harry was rapidly descending behind her. He reached her side when they were about three feet from the ground. "Ginny?" Catching him completely unaware, she shoved him off his broom, sending him tumbling to the ground. Unfortunately the motion unseated her and she fell also, landing roughly beside him. _

"_That hurt!" Harry muttered, rolling onto his side and rubbing his bottom. His hair was wild, his face flushed, his glasses skewed,_ _but Ginny thought he'd never looked more handsome. Sitting up, he moved to straighten his glasses, but she grabbed them off his face before he had the chance. Setting them on the grass beside her, she shoved him onto his back. Raising an eyebrow, he smiled suggestively at her and winked. Hastily, she shook her head and curled herself around him, wrapping an arm across his chest, resting her head on his shoulder and tangling their legs. He was very warm and very solid, something alive to cling to, and she needed that. The sun sank from the sky before either spoke again._

"_Ginny?" _

"_Yes, Harry?" _

"_Hold me." _

"_I already am." _

Ginny realized that she could no longer see where she was flying in the thickening darkness and decided it was time to head back home. Tired and sweating, she landed smoothly on the grass. Tucking the Firebolt underneath her arm, she apparated into her living room to find it already occupied.

"There you are! I've been waiting for you for over an hour now! Where have you been?" Hermione rose from Ginny's worn couch and walked over to her, looking truly concerned.

"Flying," Ginny replied shortly, gesturing to broom she was carrying. Even though Hermione's support meant a lot to her, she had really wanted to spend the evening alone, wallowing in memories of Harry.

"Is that Harry's broom?"

Ginny nodded, and then elaborated, "I think Ron took it when he died. A year later I found it at the end of my bed Christmas morning with a scrawled note. I think it said something like : _You should have this, really._"

Sympathy etched lines in Hermione's face and she patted Ginny on the back. "He really would have wanted you to have it. You meant so much to him. Had it been the other way around, with you dead and him alive– "

"Look, Hermione," Ginny cut her friend off. Her suggestion made Ginny feel guilty. "I really want to be alone. I'll be fine. I just need some time."

"You said that two years ago. And the year before that. And the year before that. And the year before that." When Ginny didn't protest, she continued, "George said there was an article in the Quibbler about Harry."

Ginny could feel tears beginning to press at the back of her eyes. She didn't want to cry. She was finished crying over Harry. "I really don't want to talk about this, Hermione."

"Alright," Hermione conceded, sitting down again and gesturing for Ginny to do the same, "But I'm not leaving. I think we should find a way to take your mind off of Harry. Perhaps there's another guy you might want to talk about?" She grinned suggestively.

"You know there isn't."

"That doesn't mean there couldn't be. There are plenty of guys out there who want to date you, Ginny. And some of them are even half-way decent. I heard Oliver Wood asked you to dinner the other day."

Ginny didn't want to talk about Oliver. She had gone to dinner with him and she even had a nice time. She was certain he would find a sweet girl and fall in love, but she wasn't that girl. He wasn't for her. He wasn't Harry.

"We went out as friends. We went home as friends. End of story."

"Surely there must be someone?"

"Other than Harry, you mean?"

"Yes, other than Harry."

"Nope." Something on the table between them caught Ginny's eye. It was a small square box wrapped in shiny red packaging with a gold string tied around it and bowed on top.

"Is that chocolate?" Ginny asked hopefully, already feeling warmer toward her nosey sister-in-law.

"Oh yes! I almost forgot." Hermione grabbed up the box from the table and began to tear it open. "They're from the twin's shop. Truffle Passions, I think they're called."

Ginny's brows furrowed suspiciously and Hermione laughed, knowing she was thinking of the love potion-spiked Caldron Cakes Ron had eaten in his sixth year.

"Don't worry. They're just chocolate. The wrappers are enchanted to 'utter your romantic future' when first opened."

"Ugh. I'd better not have any then. Mine will be like 'Look forward to a bleak days ahead, as your love was doomed from the beginning.' or something equally as depressing."

Hermione laughed. "I doubt it. If they wrote fortunes like that how many Truffle Passions would they sell? Anyway, it's not as if these fortunes use _real_ magic." Setting the open box on the table she took one truffle for herself and handed another to Ginny.

Ginny looked at her truffle dubiously. "Well, it is chocolate, so I suppose it doesn't much matter what the fortune says. I'll go first." She peeled the golden wrapper off her candy.

A soft, female voice murmured throatily, "Your true love awaits you."

"There. You see!" Hermione exclaimed triumphantly. Ginny shrugged and stuffed the truffle into her mouth. Eagerly, Hermione began to unwrap her own.

The same voice spoke for the second time, "Your true love awaits you."

"That's funny!" chuckled Ginny. "Who'd have thought we'd get the same love fortune? Very unconvincing. We should tell the twins they need to be more careful about how they box these things." She grabbed another chocolate.

Again it said, "Your true love awaits you."

Both women burst into giggles.

When their laughter died, Hermione rose and stretched. "Well, just in case there is any truth behind these fortunes, I had better get home to Ron."

"Thanks for coming, Hermione," said Ginny sincerely. "You really did cheer me up. With a bit of help from Weasley Wizard Wheezes." The two women hugged tightly. Hermione disapparated.

Ginny looked down at the mess of wrappers on the table, sighing. Harry loved chocolate. No, Harry _had _loved chocolate. There was one truffle left in the box. Ginny unwrapped and ate it.

"Your true love awaits you."

Author's Note: Okay, it's kinda cheesy, but who doesn't love cheese? Please review.


	3. Awaiting

Chasing Memories

by cinderalex

Chapter Two: Awaiting

Disclaimer: Anything or anyone you recognize does not belong to me.

Hunger churned in Harry's belly and he was glad to be finally making his own food. By this time in the afternoon, the lunch rush had usually died down so he and Paulina could take a break. As a short order cook, he didn't really get much of a chance to experiment with the food and so, with his own meals, he was creative. Today, he thought he'd make an omelette with cheese and fried chicken.

He really didn't mind working in the run down restaurant, especially as it was the only decent job he could get when he was lacking a degree and worthwhile skills. Paulina, the usual waitress, was entertaining enough with her endless stories of her hapless husband Pedro. At the moment, she was sitting at the bar munching on toast and reading this week's copy of _Hola_!.

Harry hated tabloids. For some reason they gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, almost as if he was afraid his life story would be splayed across the pages. Which was stupid, really, because nobody knew who he was, or his life story. Hell, _he_ didn't even know his own past, aside from the information on his battered UK passport. That reminded him of something.

"Paulina, guess what today is?"

She glanced up from her magazine. "The last Sunday in July, verdad? I suppose it's the one month anniversary of the day Pedro broke his toe in the elevator. How he did it, don't ask me." She shook her head in disbelief. "The elevator!"

Harry laughed and began to pull apart chicken strips into bite size pieces for his omelette. "Yes, that, and my birthday."

"Bueno! Happy birthday! How young are you this year?" Paulina was always complaining about her _old _age, though Harry didn't think she was a day over forty, and, if she was, she didn't look it. With waist-length, dark hair and bright black eyes, Paulina stood only five feet and two inches tall. The customers loved her, as she had generous curves and laughed a lot.

"Twenty-four."

"Mmmm... Are you celebrating?" He could tell Paulina was looking for a party.

"Oh, of course." He said sarcastically, reaching for the egg mix. "Hundreds of my rich and powerful friends are throwing me a birthday gala down in Time Square."

Paulina's shouts of laughter blended with the tinkling of a bell as a customer entered the shop. Harry set the egg mix back down. His omelette would have to wait. Paulina dashed behind the counter wolfing down the remainder of her toast.

"Hello Paulina." A slender blond woman with luminous silvery eyes, and a notebook sat down in the seat Paulina had vacated. "I'll have a water, with onion, please."

"As you wish, Señorita. Anything else?"

"Not for now."

Harry went to grab an onion. When he handed it to Paulina, she rolled her eyes at him as if to say _Crazy, that one. _This was the third visit she had made to the diner in a week, and every time she had asked for the same unusual drink. He went back to making his omelette aware that Paulina and the customer were chatting in a friendly sort of way.

She was very familiar, this eccentric customer. Perhaps he had known her before the plane... She did have a distinctly British accent, which was pretty rare in New York.

"Harry!" shouted Paulina loudly, and he knew this probably wasn't the first time she'd called him. "You didn't tell me you knew Luna!"

"Oh I doubt very much he remembers me." Luna murmured dreamily. "I doubt he remembers anyone at all."

Suddenly very curious, Harry tossed his omelette onto a plate and went to stand behind the bar across from Luna. "You know who I am?"

She fingered one of her dangling radish earrings lovingly and nodded.

"Tell me, then." Harry demanded.

"You're a wizard. A very brave and powerful wizard." She very serious when she said this, her dreaminess gone. The highlights in her dark blond hair caught the light making her head shimmer.

He paused, uncertain wether she playing with him or whether she actually believed what she was saying.

"You're Harry Potter, defeater of Lord Voldemort. I can tell because of this." And she reached forward and traced the lightening shaped scar on his forehead. Though her touch was light and friendly, the caress was more intimate than a kiss.

However, not only was he certain wizards did not exist, but he was also certain he had never defeated anything or anyone in his whole life. Maybe she thought he was involved in some sort of internet role playing game. He was caught between the urge to laugh and the urge to groan with disappointment. Deciding that his manager probably wouldn't appreciate him making fun of customers, he said simply, "You must have me confused with someone else. I'm Harry Cotter, omelette flipper at Marge's Diner."

At his statement, she looked as disappointed as he felt. She then turned to look out the window behind her, pulling her onion out of her drink and sucking on it. "Your friends miss you. They wish you hadn't gone."

He wondered what she was looking at and he didn't know what to say. Fortunately, Paulina was still listening. "Shit! I don't believe that for a second. Why aren't they here to wish him a happy birthday?"She turned to Harry. "You ought to get yourself some better friends... Sending a messenger to tell you they miss you!"

"I think I'll go." The woman called Luna, got up from her seat and walked out of the diner still sucking on the onion without even a goodbye.

Paulina laughed. "She should get her head looked at, ella es loca."

Harry forced a chuckle, but he could only pretend he wasn't disturbed because when the woman had traced his scar, something had resonated inside him. And when she had mentioned his friends a face had flashed across his mind, a face framed in thick red hair.

"I think she was trying to hit on you. And who can blame her, eh? A handsome man like you? With a good set of shoulders and beautiful eyes? I'm surprised someone hasn't tried to snatch you up before this."

* * *

Hermione Apparated into the kitchen of her flat, still in high spirits from the chocolate she'd shared with Ginny. However, she was still hungry, and so she made herself a small salami sandwich. Chewing slowly, she realized how tired she was. The clock on the wall told her it wasn't midnight yet, but she'd had a long day.

A loud snore caught her attention. Finishing her sandwich, she walked into the living room. Ron, clad only in a pair of boxers, slept sitting in a chair facing the front door. She walked over to him and pressed her lips to his forehead.

"'Mione?" He questioned sleepily, blinking awake. She slid onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I'm home," she murmured as her lips found his cheek, his neck, his jaw, his lips. They kissed deeply for several minutes, Hermione turning herself in the chair until she was facing him while Ron's hands moved in steady circles over her back.

"You taste like salami," said Ron, pulling back. His hands continued to massage her, moving up to her shoulders.

"I made myself a sandwich when I got home," Hermione told him before leaning in for another kiss. Her hands moved down, playing with the elastic on his boxers. He groaned and began to undo the front her robe.

"W-was Ginny... alright?" he asked unsteadily, clearly beginning to have trouble forming a coherent thought.

Hermione laughed huskily into his ear, her breath tickling his neck. "She was fine, still pining over Harry a bit, but I think this'll be the last time. Oh dear." Ron had undone her robe and his hands had found their way into the shirt she was wearing.

"Actually," Ron said, pressing a wet kiss onto her collarbone, "can we talk later? I've been waiting for _you_ all night."

* * *

Author's Note: Next chapter... cue the intrigue, I promise. Also, the hopeless romantic I am, I will try to insert a bit of sensual fluff into each chapter! (Didya like the Hermione/Ron goodness?) Also, I'm in desperate need of Ginny/Harry flashback ideas, so suggestions are welcome. Please review.

To my reviewers: A couple of notes, especially for you. **tucan-** thanks much! **Zubieda**- I appreciate the encouragement, and you really don't have to deny the cheesiness, I mean, I'm not. **Luna Lovegood8**- Yay fluff! **FreeWinky- **Now that we both know where Harry is... will you be my friend? **Evilator**- So umm, he's not dead. Whether he comes back... we'll see. And I love happy endings, so I promise one, but not for a while yet.


	4. Forgetful Heroes

Chasing Memories

by cinderalex

Chapter Three: Forgetful Heroes

Disclaimer: Anything or anyone you recognize does not belong to me.

Pansy timed it perfectly, gliding past the shop door just as her prey exited. Her fingers clasped lightly around a slender wrist.

"Hello Luna."

Luna continued walking, making no attempt to free herself from Pansy's grip. "Hello, Pansy. I would say it was pleasant to see you, but it really isn't pleasurable at all, so I wont."

Luna's steady composure unnerved her. "I would have thought you'd be surprised to see me still alive."

"No, I had a sneaking suspicion you were the real culprit behind the plot to dungbomb Time Square."

Luna Lovegood could be a flake, and Pansy didn't have the patience for her daftness. Still, the girl have some intelligence; she had been a Ravenclaw. Perhaps she was simply trying to irritate her. "I don't have time to play your games, Looney," Pansy warned, using the spiteful nickname from their school days.

"A game? However much I enjoy playing games, I don't think I'd play one with you. You aren't much fun."

Pansy scowled. She quickened her pace and hauled Luna into a small alley between two buildings. Shoving hard Luna against the brick wall, she spat, "We're going to have a little chat, you and me. Some girl talk."

Not bothering to protest the rough treatment, Luna tilted her head, looking utterly perplexed. Taking in her flowing, patchwork skirt and loose, cotton tee-shirt, Pansy thought disgustedly that the young woman could use a lesson in dressing herself.

"Alright, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Harry Potter. Is he working in that restaurant?"

"Harry Potter no longer exists." Luna answered, looking dreamily over Pansy's shoulder.

"LIAR!" screeched Pansy, shaking Luna so hard that her wand fell from its usual perch behind her ear and onto the ground. Neither witch noticed. "You wrote an article or two about him being still alive in that rag of yours. I have it from a very good source that the diner you visited is the one at which he works. Did you visit him there?"

"No, I didn't," Luna said carefully. "That was Harry Cotter."

"Are you trying to be funny? Because I'm not laughing," snarled Pansy angrily.

When Luna didn't respond, Pansy raised her wand.

"Did you or did you not visit Harry Potter this afternoon?"

Brows furrowed, Luna continued to regard Pansy silently.

"_Crucio!_"

Luna collapsed into a heap, her entire body contorted in pain, but she did not scream. After a minute, Pansy lowered her wand.

"Are you ready to answer me now?"

Luna nodded, "I wanted to answer you before, but wasn't sure of the truth. He has the same body, the same soul, but he's different." The explanation seemed to tumble out of her mouth haphazardly.

Pansy watched her intently. "What do you mean? Why is here? Why did he leave the wizarding world?"

"I don't know."

"Surely you must have learned something on your visit to see him. He must have given you some explanation."

"No."

"Perhaps, he'd tell me." She smirked. "From what I hear, he enjoys pain."

"He won't tell you anything either," Luna replied with certainty.

"You underestimate my powers of interrogation. I could get him to tell me everything."

"Not if he doesn't know."

"What do you mean?" Panic swept over Pansy. Were Harry's memories damaged somehow?

"He doesn't remember anything."

Studying her intently, Pansy decided she was telling the truth. Every plan they'd made was ruined. Draco would blame her. She took out her frustration by kicking Luna in the shins. "You have just outlived your usefulness." She raised her wand in order to utter the killing curse.

"The Quibbler can still use me. My writing is well regarded."

Pansy laughed harshly. "Too bad they aren't here."

"They will be here. To investigate Harry Cotter. It'll be all over everywhere soon. People will be pouring in from all over the world to check up on the rumor."

Understanding hit Pansy like a brick. They didn't need masses of wizards flooding into New York City and blowing their cover. "You'll need to print a retraction."

"But it's true." Luna stated simply, clearly not understanding why Pansy would ask her to print a lie.

"Do you want to stay alive another day?"

"Yes."

"Then you'll print a retraction."

Luna did not respond. Pansy began to drag her along the alley, trying to decide the best place to keep her. If she didn't want to write the retraction, then Pansy could kill her and write it herself. Actually, she thought brightly, she could do that anyway.

Suddenly Luna stopped.

"Merlin's beard!" cried Pansy almost losing her balance from the pull of the still Luna.

"Okay... I think I'll write the retraction." She smiled at Pansy.

Less than five seconds from ripping out her hair, Pansy muttered, "Damn right you will."

* * *

Aching from exhaustion and heavy physical labor, Neville Apparated into his living room. After spending the day at work, he was ready for a warm shower and a long sleep. He didn't usually work on Sundays. He usually spent Sunday's at his gran's house, but he'd been called in around mid-afternoon when someone had broken into the greenhouses where he worked.

The Ministry Greenhouses supplied most of the magical community in England with necessary plants and housed many experimental species being bred and tested. It was through his own experimentations, as well as his innate ability to make things grow, that Neville had been able to rise among the ranks of greenhouse workers in the few short years he'd been working. He now managed one of the thirty greenhouses on the premises. His greenhouse just happened to be one of the four broken into the previous evening.

The Magical Law Enforcement Squad was certain the burglars were into the business of dealing Ministry regulated substances because the greenhouses broken into had all contained plants quite popular on the black market. The Squad had wanted to inventory his greenhouse to assess the stolen items, but he wouldn't hear of having loads of Ministry wizards trampling his plants. Instead, he'd volunteered to do the job himself. He found, to his surprise, that the only popular regulated plant housed in his greenhouse, Venus' Hair, an overpowering aphrodisiac when smoked, was still intact. However, the Papaver memoria, in the next bed, was missing. The effects of the Papaver memoria were so disturbing that not even the most desperate wizards would dare go near it. It's disappearance made Neville particularly upset because he had several tests currently underway attempting to control the effects of its pollen, hopefully making it less dangerous, and therefore more useful medically.

All thoughts of work were wiped from his mind when he entered his dining room to find a mountain of presents on his table next to a heavily frosted cake, its candles still twinkling. It was his birthday today! He'd completely forgotten.

Moving toward the table, he saw someone had left him a note. He picked it up and read:

_Dear Neville,_

_Happy Birthday, Honeyy! You're twenty-four and we're **so** proud of you, what with everything you've accomplished. Not only are you an amazing herbologist, but you're a hero to the entire wizarding community, and we love you. _

_When you didn't show up at Gran's, we thought we'd surprise you here. However, you aren't answering our owls, and we've waited three hours. It's about ten o'clock and Gran is very tired, so we're heading home. _

_I must admit, I was a bit worried about you at first, but Gran explained everything to me. You should let us know next know next time you aren't going to be able to attend Sunday dinner. Enjoy your presents and owl us when you get home._

_Love, _

_Mum (and Dad and Gran) _

_P.S. I hope you don't mind, I ate a piece of cake. Also, how about next week you bring this mysterious girlfriend with you to Sunday dinner instead of skipping off with her. We'd really like to meet her. She sounds spectacular. _

Overwhelmed with guilt, Neville helped himself to a rather large piece of cake and wished he actually had the girlfriend he'd told Gran about.

* * *

Author's note: I apologize for any errors, my beta (aka my sister) has disappeared for a couple days. This chapter was supposed to finish with a lovely H/G flashback, but I decided I like it better with the next chapter, so you'll have to wait. I now have all the major plot points mapped out. Oh joy. Please review.

To my Reviewers:

**FreeWinky**- Hello friend! JKR's Harry is incredibly modest and I like him that way. **Elle's Bells-** This update is posted purely in fear of your nutritional anthropology skills, but don't get too excited about the pairings just yet cause I intend to switch things up several times before we're through. **danaluv-** I suggest you play some games while you wait. How about the ever popular "Rock, Paper, Scissors, _Avada Kedavra_"? **Amarillia- **I'm glad you liked it! Luna is my favorite, so she's going to be very important. **Zubieda**- Mmmm... cheese... **Makokam**- Thanks for the encouragement and suggestions. Length just isn't my strong suit and I really doubt it ever will be. **Arwen12323**- THANKS

Thank you all _so _much and keep 'em coming!


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